Scarred Skin and Uneven Eyes
by skydivinglibrarian
Summary: The story of a woman Graced with discerning truths, who grew up in the palace of the king of lies.
1. Chapter 1

_ The woman pulls her son into her lap._

_"Back already?" she asks, brushing his hair back. "What about your music lesson?"_

_ "Lessons are boring," complains the boy. "I already know how to play."_

_ She kisses his forehead, frowning. This is the third time he has come home early. She can't make him go to his lessons, if he chooses not to go. She has no strength to force a child. "Will you practice, then?" she asks. "If you won't take lessons, at least you must practice."_

_ "Mm-hm," the boy nods, leaning his head on her chest. He catches a swatch of her hair in his hand, twines the silver and black strands between his palms. She forgets about music practice, entranced by the tenderness of his small fingers. Warmth floods her chest cavity as she watches him, and she is reassured._

* * *

Narie's hand moved slowly, gently, pulling the brush through her daughter's thick black hair. The little girl squirmed anxiously.

"Are you done yet?" she asked for the fourth time. She tried to catch her father's eye, hoping for some sympathy, but he was fussing with the fireplace and didn't look up.

"Patience," Narie said firmly. "I will tell you when I'm done."

"But Mama, I'm _bored," _pleaded the girl. "I want to go _play._"

"You can wait," said Narie, coaxing a few stubborn strands through the teeth of the brush. "It won't kill you."

A faint knock sounded from the outside door, two rooms away. Doren, Narie's husband, rose to answer it, and his daughter leapt up to follow him.

"You stay here," said Narie, pulling the girl back down. "We don't know who it is."

Doren moved into the next room, closing the door behind him. The girl heard her father unbolt the front door, then speak in a lowered voice. When the visitor replied, the girl's Graced ears picked up the timbre of the voice, and she realized that the man at the door was someone she didn't know.

In this little farming village, two days ride from the nearest town, they never met anyone new. A child couldn't be expected to pass up an opportunity like that.

The little girl slipped through the door into the entrance room, where her father's body was physically blocking the outside door.

"We don't know anything about that," Doren said firmly. "It's very late. You should be on your way."

"Is that so?" asked the mystery man. The girl stood on tiptoe, trying to see his face. Doren heard movement and turned around, panic rising in his throat.

"Kora!" he cried, catching sight of his daughter. "Go back inside!"

But it was too late. Doren had moved from the door when he turned, leaving the traveler an unobstructed line of sight.

That which is seen cannot be unseen.

The man saw Kora's eyes.

* * *

_"You have such pretty eyes, Mama," the boy says sleepily. And then, suddenly remembering, "I found a stone!" He climbs off his mother's lap and searches his pockets. "It's a special stone."_

_ "Let me see this special stone," replies his mother, holding out her hand. The child produces it proudly: it is black, striped with pale blue. The colors perfectly match the woman's uneven irises. Wordlessly, she runs her fingers over the deep-hued grooves. Of course this one is uncut, rough and pitted, but it is still familiar. The woman saw one like it, in a lifetime long since passed._


	2. Chapter 2

_ The woman pulls her son into her lap._

_"Back already?" she asks, brushing his hair back. "What about your music lesson?"_

_ "Lessons are boring," complains the boy. "I already know how to play."_

_ She kisses his forehead, frowning. This is the third time he has come home early. She can't make him go to his lessons, if he chooses not to go. She has no strength to force a child. "Will you practice, then?" she asks. "If you won't take lessons, at least you must practice."_

_ "Mm-hm," the boy nods. He settles himself in front of the keyboard and floats his fingers down, slowly, like ten falling feathers. He plays._

_ The woman tries to concentrate, but she is lost already, sinking into her memories._

* * *

Narie's hand moved slowly, gently, pulling the brush through her daughter's red-brown hair. Kora squirmed anxiously.

"Are you done yet?" she asked for the fourth time. She tried to catch her father's eye, hoping for some sympathy, but he was fussing with the fireplace and didn't look up.

"Patience," Narie said firmly. "I will tell you when I'm done."

"But Mama, I'm _bored,"_Kora pleaded. "I want to go _play._"

"You can wait," said Narie, coaxing a few stubborn strands through the teeth of the brush. "It won't kill you."

A faint knock sounded from the outside door, two rooms away. Doren, Narie's husband, rose to answer it, and his daughter leapt up to follow him.

"You stay here," said Narie, pulling the girl back down. "We don't know who it is."

Doren moved into the next room, closing the door behind him. Kora heard her father unbolt the front door, then speak in a lowered voice. When the visitor replied, the girl's Graced ears picked up the timbre of the voice, and she realized that the man at the door was someone she didn't know.

In this little farming village, two days ride from the nearest town, they never met anyone new. A child couldn't be expected to pass up an opportunity like that.

The little girl slipped through the door into the entrance room, where her father's body was physically blocking the outside door.

"We don't know anything about that," Doren said firmly. "It's very late. You should be on your way."

"Is that so?" asked the mystery man. The girl stood on tiptoe, trying to see his face. Doren heard movement and turned around, panic rising in his throat.

"Kora!" he cried, catching sight of his daughter. "Go back inside!"

But it was too late. Doren had moved from the door when he turned, leaving the traveler an unobstructed line of sight.

That which is seen cannot be unseen.

The man saw Kora's eyes.

* * *

_ The sound ripples slowly out like circles growing wider in still water disturbed. It rolls into the corners of the room and keeps moving, sliding through the walls and out onto the street, finding hungry ears and starving hearts. In every house within earshot, conversation stops. Birds fall silent in the trees. Feral dogs stop howling and sit, ears perked up. This music is like no other._

* * *

Ashen curtsied deeply to her brother, as a princess to a king.

"Lord King," she said, bowing her head.

"Lady Princess," he replied. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Ashen didn't turn around; she wasn't supposed to. She watched her brother.

"Lord King," said Ror. "May I present to you Ashen, Royal Princess of Lienid."

_Now_Ashen turned around.

The ruler of Monsea was an underwhelming sight. He was tall, but rather unattractive. One of his eyes was covered by a black patch, so that he looked, not quite like a pirate, but a bit like a child dressed up as a pirate. Between the patch and the heavy gold jewelry and the ostentatiously flowing scarlet robes he looked, in fact, completely ridiculous. He was some peasant's fantasy of wealth, made reality without the help of a professional.

His uncovered eye was Lienid gray. What color, Ashen wondered, were Monsean eyes?

All these thoughts passed through her head in the space of an instant, before they were fully introduced. As Ashen curtsied, the man spoke.

"I am Leck, King of Monsea," he told her. His voice was deep and rich and smooth. It had harmonics to it. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

All Ashen's first impressions melted away. Still bent into her curtsy, she lifted her head and smiled up at him.

"The pleasure is all mine," she replied. And she meant it.

* * *

_ The little boy plays, eyes closed, frowning slightly in concentration. His fingers flutter over the keys faster than a darting swallow. Music spills out from his hands and strikes into listening hearts, pricking up tears in unguarded eyes._

* * *

"Go back inside," Doren repeated.

As he spoke, his wife slipped into the entrance-room. "Oh, seas," she whispered, seeing the dark-cloaked traveler framed in the doorway. "Kora, dear, come inside with me."

"No, I think it's best she stays out here," said the visitor, crouching down in front of Kora. "Sweetheart, when did your eyes settle?"

"Eight months," Kora replied. She knew her parents were afraid of this man, but her instincts told her he meant no harm. There was no threat of malice in his posture, and his tone was friendly.

"And how old are you now?" he asked.

"Four and a quarter," she said proudly.

"Oh my!" he exclaimed. "You're a big girl now, aren't you? What's your name, sweetie?"

"Kora."

"Kora. That's a pretty name. I'm Myron. I'm a Graceling scout for the king. Do you know what that means?"

Kora bit her lip. "You're here to take me away."

"That isn't going to happen," Narie interrupted fiercely. She pulled Kora onto her hip and glared at Myron. "You may leave this place now."

The man met her gaze. "I have no wish to do harm here," he told her calmly. "I do as my king commands, and I believe his laws to be just."

"Narie, take her inside," Doren suggested. He placed himself between the scout and his wife, but Myron met Narie's gaze over his shoulder.

"Three years is a long time to hold onto a Graceling," Myron pointed out. "You must love her very much. I understand that, and respect it."

"Then go," Narie said desperately. "Leave us alone." Myron ignored her.

"This outpost is isolated, and hard to reach. Last month was the first report we heard of a Graceling girl in this area. That means you have received no royal summons, which means you have defied no command, and as of right now you have broken no laws."

"Then what do you want with us?" Narie demanded.

"_This_ is your royal summons. It cannot be defied. If I leave here without the girl, I will come back with soldiers. And they will take her, and you, and your husband. Either way, Kora will be fine. She will live a life of safety and comfort in the king's palace. I promise you that," he added, meeting Kora's eyes.

Narie and Doren glanced at their daughter. She nodded, her lower lip wobbling. "He means it," she whispered. "But I don't want to go."

"Then you won't," Doren said flatly.

"She will," Myron said wearily, "And you'll go to prison. Can we discuss this outside? Away from the child? The talk is frightening her."

"No," Narie said, glancing at Doren. "My husband and I will discuss this inside, away from you. We have decisions to make."

"Then leave Kora with me," Myron replied.

"Are you mad?"

"He won't take me," Kora whispered. "He's going to let you choose." She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. She felt unfamiliar hands pluck her from her mother's grip, heard her father's angry snarl as she was carried across the room.

"Talk to your husband," said her captor's gentle voice. "We'll be waiting here."

"Go," Kora said quietly, opening her eyes. "I want to talk to him."

Narie and Doren left the room reluctantly, trusting in their daughter's Grace.

"You're being nice," Kora said, looking up at the king's scout. "Why are you being nice?"

Myron smiled. "I'm a nice man."

"Nice men don't take little girls from their mothers," said the Graceling. She aimed the words like an arrow, and saw them hit home. Myron looked away.

"They do if the king commands it." He met Kora's eyes again. "I have a great deal of faith in King Leck, Kora. You'll understand when you meet him. He has a reason for everything he does, even if he doesn't always explain himself. I've yet to meet a better man, and Monsea's never known a better ruler."

"Ow!" Kora clutched her head, blinking back tears.

"What's wrong?" Myron touched her hair, concerned. "Are you all right?"

Kora rubbed her forehead. She suddenly had an awful headache. She couldn't remember what Myron had just said, or what she had meant to reply. She had had a plan, to convince him of something, but her brain was muddled now.

Voices rustled from the inside room. Kora looked up, concentrating. Her ears were sharper than her parents knew; she could hear them whispering.

"Kora?" Myron repeated. "Are you all right?"

"Sssh!"

"We cannot protect her," Narie was saying. "We have no resources."

"I will not give her up," Doren said angrily.

Their voices lowered again. Narie said something Kora couldn't catch. Then there was silence. Kora growled in frustration, flailing against her captor.

Alarmed, Myron released her. Her Grace must be one of the eerie ones, he realized. Something was happening in her head that no ordinary person could understand. His guilt abated somewhat; these tantrums were probably common, and might grow more forceful over time. A poor rural couple was ill-equipped to manage such a Grace. In delivering Kora to the care of the king, he was doing a good thing.

Narie and Doren entered, their features heavy with sorrow and guilt.

So the decision was made. Kora would be delivered to the king. She couldn't help it anymore; she started to cry. Great wracking sobs that hurt her chest and constricted her lungs. Myron watched helplessly as clutched herself, gasping for breath.

_The king will be able to help her,_he told himself. _Once she meets him, she won't be upset anymore._It was at this point that Narie and Doren entered.

Seeing Kora's distress, Doren immediately knelt before her, wrapping her in his arms. She clung to his shirt, pressing her face into his chest.

"I don't want to go," she cried. "Please don't make me go."

Genuine as the sobs were, the words were calculated, and not addressed to Doren. She could hear Myron moving around at the edge of her perception, and she knew she was causing him pain. It was a long shot, but unlocking his empathy was her only chance.

It didn't work. The more uncontrollable Kora appeared, the more convinced Myron was that she needed to be brought to the king. It was her parents who were affected by the tantrum; Doren wept openly over his daughter's head, and Narie watched Myron as a wolf watches a deer. The scout began to fear that the woman would kill him if he touched her daughter again.

The silence was long and strained. It was Narie who broke it.

"We will go with you. Kora and I. I will take her to the king, and speak to him on her behalf."

"You may not be allowed to see him—"

"I will go with her. Or do you mean to kill me now." It was not a question. She knew he would attempt no violence. Myron nodded.

* * *

_ The melody slows and deepens, pulling down into a mournful, keening sorrow. The air grows heavy, thick and hard to breathe. And then, like the lightest of falling raindrops, another melody slips in around it. Faster, brighter, full of childish delight, the music accelerates. Like a quickening pulse it outraces the mournful song, leaves it behind and streams forward to greatness. The pressure releases and the room grows lighter, as if a window has been opened to let in the sun._

* * *

Narie lifted her daughter from her husband's arms. As she turned for the door Doren caught her arm and kissed her. She wrapped her free arm around him, and they stood, locked together, for some time.

They pressed against Kora, solid and strong, close enough for her to hear both their heartbeats. She breathed them in, their warmth, the safety of having them wrapped around her. She hid the sensation in her heart, buried it deep where it wouldn't be lost.

She kept that memory forever, but she never felt anything like it again.

* * *

_ With a great reverberating flourish of sound, the song ends. The woman gasps, resurfacing, latching her hand onto a nearby chair. She can't remember where she is, or how she got there. _

_ There is a child in front of her. She knows that she should know him, but she cannot place his name. A cold draft of fear blows through her as she stares down at his upturned face. Sandy hair, a snub nose, a certain aspect about his features is painfully familiar. _

_ "No," she whispers. _

_ "Mama?" the boy ventures nervously. _

_ "No!" she cries out, lurching away from him. "No, you can't be, you shouldn't be, you have no _right_!" _

_ "Mama." The child reaches out a hand, trying to mollify her. She recoils. _

_ "No," she hisses, "don't you ever say that word. You may not say that word to me! You shouldn't be here. Go! Get out!"_

_ "Stop it!" the boy yells, angry now. "Stop shouting, stop it, just be normal!" His fists are clenched and tears are forming in his beautifully uneven eyes. _

_ "Go!" she repeats, louder now. "Leave me alone, leave me in peace! I'm done with you, I won't go back! Get out of here!"_

_ The child turns from her, sobbing, and runs out of the house._


	3. Chapter 3

The king smiled at them. He had a silly-looking face, Kora noted. An eyepatch was slung over one of his eyes, crowned by a mane of sandy-brown hair.

"And her Grace is memory?" he asked. "How fascinating."

"We think her senses may also be unusually sharp," Narie added. "Sight, hearing, and the like."

"Fascinating," Leck replied. "Potentially problematic, but I certainly hope not. I have a librarian with a similar Grace." He crouched down in front of Kora, resting his gray eye on her black and blue ones. She had never seen his face up close, and she had to bite back a giggle as she realized that the nation's sovereign had a snub nose.

"Your mother's eyes are green," said Leck conversationally. A stabbing pain pierced Kora's head, and she blinked furiously.

"What?" she asked, confused. She wasn't certain what had just been said.

"What color are you mother's eyes?" the king inquired. Something clouded Kora's thoughts, made her brain move slower than usual. She could see her mother's eyes, she knew what color they were, but she couldn't remember the right word for that color. Embarrassed by the awkward pause, she said the word that slid easiest onto her tongue.

"Green," she told the king. He beamed at her.

"Excellent," he said cheerfully, standing up. Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Lord King," called the knocker from outside, "there is a message for you."

"Excuse me," said Leck, moving toward the door. "This should only take a minute." He swept out of the room.

Kora shook her head, trying to clear her mind. There was something she wasn't noticing, something important. She couldn't think straight.

_Brown_, she remembered suddenly. Her mother's eyes were brown. Kora had never forgotten a word before.

"Mama," she said, tugging on Narie's sleeve, "something's wrong. What's happening?"

Narie blinked in astonishment. She couldn't remember Kora ever asking her what was happening. Kora was never confused.

"Nothing's wrong, Kora," Narie assured her daughter. "The king wants you to visit him for a while."

"How long?"

"He didn't say." Narie frowned. Why hadn't she asked?

"Why does he want me?"

"You're a Graceling, dear. Gracelings have to live with the king."

"But not if he doesn't want them. My Grace is boring, it's not fighting or cooking or something for kings. Why does he _want_me?"

"I can't imagine," Narie teased. "Maybe because you're a brilliant, charming, beautiful girl. Don't worry, darling.."

A memory came to Kora, slicing through the fog: Leck's eyes lingering on her, hungry, greedy.

"He wants me 'cause I'm pretty," Kora told her mother.

"Maybe that's what it is," Narie agreed with a smile, mistaking Kora's fear for vanity.

"Mama, I don't want to go with him." Finally, Narie heard the panic in her daughter's voice, and the fog in her own mind began to clear. She knelt before her daughter, bringing her deep brown eyes level with Kora's uneven ones, taking Kora's tiny hands in hers. Although the little girl's black eye was as opaque as ever, her blue eye shone with frightened tears.

"You have to, darling," Narie said. "He's the king. But please, can you tell me what you're afraid of?" For Narie felt it too, humming in the air. Something was not right here, something besides a little girl afraid of leaving home.

"He carries a knife, Mama," Kora said. "Why would a king need a knife? He has guards and things. And everyone loves King Leck. Who would try to hurt him?" Narie didn't remember seeing a knife, but she didn't doubt Kora's powers of observation.

"I don't know, honey. Maybe he doesn't like having guards around all the time. Maybe it's for decoration." Kora shuddered, remembering the silvery handle protruding from its plain leather sheath. She was ten years old, and not yet quite in command of her Grace. She didn't always know how she knew things. But she was sure that that knife got a lot of use.

"He's not a good man, Mama," she whispered. "He is not a righteous king."

"Kora! That's very close to treason. King Leck is a kind man who has done a world of good for Monsea." Kora knew nothing about politics, had no idea what Leck had done or not done for Monsea. But she remembered that face, that glittering gray eye, the fingers twitching toward her, the knife at his belt. She knew enough to be afraid of him.

"I don't want to go with him," she repeated. Narie didn't understand what the problem was, but she was used to Kora seeing truths she couldn't comprehend. Kora was smarter than her, Narie knew, maybe smarter than anyone, but she was still a child, and she was frightened and lost and she needed someone to take care of her.

"All right, Kora, you don't have to go. You won't. You'll come home with me, okay?"

Kora sobbed in relief and wrapped her arms around her mother, squeezing tight as if someone was trying to pull her away. Narie stroked the little girl's hair, making soothing noises.

"But we do have to wait for him to come back, so we can explain to him that we're not staying," Narie pointed out. Kora's head shot up, terrified eyes raised to meet her mother's.

"No, please, Mama, we can't see him. We can't talk to him. We have to go home now, right away. It's not safe here."

"Kora," Narie said firmly, "We told the king you would stay with him. If you've changed your mind, I'll support you, but we have to tell him."

Kora knew that voice. It was the tone Narie used when she thought she was teaching Kora an important lesson in manners. Narie would not back down now.

"Okay, Mama. But promise you won't let him take me."

"Kora, King Leck is not going to 'take' you." It was true that Gracelings legally belonged to the king. But Leck had been so warm, so friendly when he had spoken to them. Narie was sure he would understand.

"Promise!" Kora insisted, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She squeezed Narie's fingers so hard that her knuckles turned white. "You have to promise that you'll hold onto me."

"Oh, Kora," Narie said, "Is that what you're worried about? That I'm letting go of you? Kora, you know that I love you more than—"

"No," Kora said impatiently. "I'm worried that the king will tell us that I should go with him, and we'll both believe him like we did before, and my mind will get cloudy and I'll be stupid like I was before, and you'll have to take care of me, because I'm not strong enough. I'm not, Mama, I'm not strong enough, and I'm not smart enough."

"Kora, you're the smartest girl I know."

"Most of the time," Kora agreed. "But when King Leck talked I got confused and stupid and I need you to help me. When we go tell him that I'm not going with him, I need you to hold onto me and not let go no matter what, because he _will_try to take me. I know it." Narie looked at her daughter. So small, so young, telling her that King Leck, the man famous for being wise and kind to animals, was some kind of evil child-snatcher.

But she trusted Kora. Kora was almost never wrong about truths. Some things, like manners, she didn't have the slightest grasp of, but she knew secrets and dangers better than anyone.

"Okay, Kora," Narie told her. "Here's what we'll do. You put your hand in mine, and we'll hold on tight to each other while we're talking. And if anything feels wrong to you, if you get scared, you squeeze my hand to remind me that I promised not to let go of you. And I do promise, Kora. Fifteen minutes from now, I'll take you home. You'll see. You don't have to be afraid. Okay?"

Kora nodded. Narie let go of her and stood, rubbing her back where it ached from kneeling for so long. One more reminder that she was no longer young. She took her daughter's hand and smiled down at her, and there was so much laughter in her chocolate brown eyes that Kora found herself smiling too. Leck might be stronger than her, but no one was stronger than Narie. As long as Narie held her hand, she was safe.

But it wasn't true, because now Narie was on the floor in Leck's office, blood pooling around the knife in her stomach.

Kora's mind had clouded as soon as the king spoke, just as she knew it would. And she had believed, truly believed, that she wanted to live with him. And everything had been happy and perfect, except that she wasn't noticing things like she usually did, little patterns in the way people breathed or walked, currents of air in the room, stains on the carpet that told a story. Her mind had lost its sharpness. And she had gotten scared, and squeezed Narie's hand.

She didn't know what had happened after that. But she believed that Leck had not hurt her mother. He wouldn't do such a thing. So who had? Why couldn't she think straight? She clenched her fist, squeezing the hand that was no longer in hers, telling her mother that she was scared, that something wasn't right.

Kora dropped to her mother's side and shook her. Narie gasped in pain, and Kora let go.

"Mama, Mama, please, we have to get out of here," Kora pleaded. "We have to leave, now. It's not safe here. Mama, can you hear me?"

But if Narie could hear, she didn't answer. Kora ignored the knife in her stomach and focused on her warm brown eyes. Even now, they calmed and centered her, helped her understand what had happened.

"Don't be ridiculous," Leck had told them. "Of course Kora wants to come with me." And Kora had agreed, but she had felt a wrongness that she couldn't place, and she had squeezed Narie's hand. And Narie had looked at her frightened daughter and understanding had come to her in a great wave, and she had stood fast and said,

"She doesn't want to go with you. I don't know what you're doing to me, but I will make this choice, not you." And Leck had laughed, and reached for Kora with a smile, but Narie had held on tight to Kora's hand and stood between her and the king. "You will not touch my daughter. I will not allow it." And Leck had laughed again, as if this was a marvelous game they were playing, and Kora had screamed because she knew what was coming, and tried to pull her mother back, but Leck was faster then her. And that silver-handled knife had come out of its sheath and found a home in Narie's stomach.

Kora sobbed in fury and yanked out the knife. Her mind was sharp again, and she knew that Narie's wound was fatal, that pulling out the blade could not help. But she would not let Narie sped her last moments with something of Leck's inside her.

I will have to be strong now, Kora thought. I will have to be stronger even than the king, because Mama won't be there to be strong for me.

"Mama," Kora whispered, tears pooling in her eyes, "I love you. I won't forget you. No matter what he does to me, no matter what he says, I'll remember." And then her strength crumbled and poured out of her, soaking her cheeks. "Mama, please, stop it. Get up. Help me. I need you. I can't do this alone. Please, Mama, please!"

Narie's eyes were empty now. Her heart was beating, Kora could tell from the blood that still spilled from her stomach. But her light, her life, her soul had gone. Kora was alone.

The Graceling girl stood slowly and turned to face her king.

"You won't take me," she told him, her knuckles whitening around the bloody knife.

"Kora, darling, I know how upset you must be. But it wasn't your fault. You didn't mean to hurt her, I know that. You were just holding the knife, and Narie walked into you. It was an accident. No one will blame you." Kora felt her thoughts slow down and thicken. She clapped her hands to her ears.

"You killed her, I saw you," she said, but the words sounded hollow and empty. Oh, gods, had she killed her mother? What kind of monster was she?

"Kora, you're holding the knife in your hand," Leck said gently. "You know what happened."

Yes, she knew what happened. What had happened? She found her last clear memory, her hand pressing into Narie's, asking for help. Everything around it blurred, but she remembered her mother's hand in hers, warm and strong. She remembered her fear as she squeezed, and the surge of relief as her mother squeezed back, promising to protect her. Had she been holding the knife then?

No, the knife had been in Leck's belt. Leck had killed Narie, because she had stood between him and his prize.

"You killed her," Kora spat at him. "She wouldn't do what you wanted, so you killed her. You're a monster." She raised her knife.

"Darling," Leck said, "you're holding that knife wrong." And then he lunged at her, and with her senses dulled by his words she didn't know what was happening until the knife was across the room and the king had her in an iron grip. His cruel gray eye cut into her. "Kora, you've had a shock. You just lost your mother. People are always stronger after something like that. I know you hate me right now. I know you don't believe me. But I have the rest of your life to change your mind, my beautiful Graceling girl, and I promise you this: you will believe. You will believe everything I tell you."

And then he released her and laughed, joy in his conquest spilling out of him with the sound, touching everything in the room, twisting into Kora until she could hardly breathe.


	4. Chapter 4

_ When, in all of this, did she give birth to a boy? She cannot remember. She refuses to remember. _

_ What a luxury, to be allowed to forget. _

_ The woman eases into a chair. Her skin is a patchwork thing that threatens to tear when she moves. Some places the ache carves straight through muscle and into the bone. She was beautiful once, but not anymore._

_ The weight of years presses down on her. Outside, the golden evening light is giving way to dusk. _

* * *

Fog swamped this memory, but some things shone through. The gleam of lamplight reflected off a knife. A pair of uneven eyes, crystal blue and burnished black, wide with fear and desperation. A voice, pleading with him.

"Stop, please. You're hurting me."

"I'm not hurting you," Thiel told her, confused that she didn't seem to understand. "I'm trying to help you.

"You want to help me. You're a good man, I know it. Thiel, that's your name, that's what he called you, right? Thiel, you're a healer, I've seen it. This isn't healing. No, stop. Stop!" And then she was screaming, as if she truly was in pain, and Thiel stepped back, bewildered. He blinked at the sight of the knife in his hand. The blood on the knife. The girl was weeping now, and with a wave of nausea Thiel realized what he had done.

"I'm so sorry," he said, dropping the knife and using his sleeve to blot the bleeding. The cut would need stitches; it was long and deep. "I don't know what came over me. Please, I beg you, forgive me."

The girl shook her head, tears welling in her bright blue eye. It was odd, Thiel thought, that even when she was crying the black eye betrayed no emotion. It must be a trick of the light.

"You need stitches," he murmured anxiously. "I have a kit in the next room."

"You can't leave your post," she said irritably. "You'll stitch the cut when Leck wants you to, and not before."

"I can't just let it bleed."

"You must." He couldn't. He was a healer, and she was in pain. He shook his head and turned to the door.

"Thiel," Kora out, her voice suddenly strong. "By the debt of blood you owe me, I command you to say where you are."

He had to stop then.

"Kora, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Please, forgive me."

"You remember my name." She sounded surprised, and then exhausted. "I don't understand."

"You've been here before," he murmured, confused. She had been smaller then...

"You remember," she whispered. She looked as if this news might break her. "How could you remember me, and still not stop when I asked?"

"I'm so sorry."

"I will never understand." She dropped her head, collapsing into her chains. "I will never understand how you can all be so weak."

The silence stretched between them, horribly long. Blood was pouring out of her arm. Her black eye looked like a stone to Thiel, ancient and unyielding.

"I was a little girl," she whispered. "I was a little girl, and you took a knife to me." The room was spinning, and he was remembering, and he didn't want to.

"Yes." He swallowed the word, a failed confession.

Kora hissed with pain, and shifted position.

"I want you to remember something," she told him grimly. "Even if you forget everything else."

"How can I?"

"Try." The word grated in her throat, harsh and unrelenting.

"I will," he promised.

"Remember that you are not forgiven."

* * *

_The woman lifts her scarred hands from her lap and gazes at them as if they are new to her. Frowning, she pulls herself out of the chair and crosses to the back of the room, where the day's last shafts of dusty light fall on a small chipped mirror._

_ Two sky-blue eyes peer back at her. She is no Graceling girl. _

_ Neither is she a torturer. Whose memories are these? Why do they grant her no respite?_


End file.
